Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I just finished Mieko Kawakami’s “Breasts and Eggs,” and I love her writing style. Her imaginative descriptions aren’t too overly florid, but just the right amount that I had to pause to go back and re-read passages just to soak in her beautiful prose. This is the author’s first book to be translated into English, and after a brief wait on the library’s hold list, I jumped right into it.
I’ve been on a feminist literature kick (because f**k the patriarchy, am I right?) and while I’m still basking in the afterglow of “Women Who Run With the Wolves,” by Clarissa Pinkola Estés (TRANSFORMATIVE! READ IT!), I needed to write this review while I rein in my thoughts to draft the review for “Wolves.”

“Breasts and Eggs” follows a single working-class woman who is trying to find her own way in Japanese society much like American society: bodily autonomy for women is taboo; the female body is for the male gaze and use; a woman’s success in her work is contingent on her sacrifice of her femininity; single parenthood should not be a voluntary option; some women have internalized the patriarchy, etc.

We start off with the main protagonist, Natsuko, whose mother had to flee an abusive relationship with her and her sister at a young age. Natsuko’s mom scrapes by as a single mom, and Natsuko’s sister, Mikiko, eventually follows in her mom’s footsteps as a struggling single mom who words as a hostess who entertains drinking men. As Mikiko’s daughter, Midoriko, is coming of age, Midoriko is repulsed by the idea that women are seen as just valuable for their “eggs.” Mikiko, meanwhile, an aging hostess, is obsessed with breast implants she could never in her lifetime afford.

Natsuko, who leaves Osaka to pursue a career as a writer in Tokyo, seems to be an ambivalent observer of her sister’s obsession. She mostly worries about Mikiko’s health. After a cathartic moment of confrontation between Mikiko and Midoriko while visiting Natsuko, the book jumps ahead in time. She’s had success with her first published novel, and for the first time in her life. She remains single and is resigned to being alone because she is incapable of enjoying sex. And yet, she desires to become a mother, so she delves into the subject matter of anonymous artificial insemination. In Japan, this is only available to couples, and the adult children of anonymous donors are vocal opponents of this type of insemination.

How Natsuko sorts through her own desires, society’s view of this, the opponent group’s perspectives, her editor’s opinion, and her sister’s reaction is the heart of this part of the story and I won’t spoil it. It’s hard to pin how the story moves me, other than the writing itself, but I’d have to say it is because of the women who populate Natsuko’s life and those she learns from others. This includes her editor who came from a wealthy family and puts work before all else, her writer friend who is a single mother who hates men for what they put women through, a woman whose father figure horrifically abused her as a child, another whose mother said the most important person in her life was her husband and not her children, another woman who is forced to care for her bitter and narcissistic mother-in-law … the list goes on. All of the characters weave this web of women trying to cope while stuck in a man’s world.

Honestly, it’s refreshing to read a story so centered on women. It passes the Bechdel Test easy-peasy. The men in this story are background noise. The one that plays a more prominent role is a sort of Virgil for Natsuko’s journey—not one who saves her, but one who cares and shows support. The women alone in the story are worth giving this novel a read.



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